Bleech
by Eisenstein
Summary: Eveybody knows and hates self-inserts, right? Still, what if a self-insert doesn't grant that much special power or ability to muck around with the original setting? If you become mostly a burden to the characters? Will you just be... a leech? ABANDONED
1. Chapter 1 Awakenings

It's weird.

It's been over ten years since I last wrote anything like this, but I've been having these persistent dream-thoughts...

This screams to be written down. I hope I can do it. I'll try at least.

What's the worst that can happen? Dissatisfied readers? Finger cramps?  
Mad assassins (grins)? Probably nothing I can't deal with or ignore.

Okay.

Everyone reading this should know the concept of the self-insertion fanfic.

You take your favorite story, be it anime, manga, movie, series, book or other media.

You generally don't own the rights to that property, and neither do I, come to think of it.

You design a character more or less based on you, typically more less, less more (yes, that _was_ supposed to be a pun or something), often some kind of gaming construct with mismatched, unbalanced powers.

You throw that persona in the mix, usually letting it overshadow the original characters with overwhelming skill, power, eloquence, smarts or just raw 'coolness'.

Well, that's not _quite_ what happened to me in ...

- 0 -

BLEECH

- 0 -

{Bleach is the intellectual property of Tite Kubo and whoever else is involved in making and marketing the manga and anime series. I haven't made any money off this, nor do I intend to, and probably never would even if I wanted.}

- 0 -

- Awakenings -

Part 1 - Panicked Awakening

- 0 -

The last thing I remember is going to sleep, the first waking up.  
Sounds stupid? Well, imagine how *I* felt then. But I'll elaborate:  
The last thing I remember *before waking up elsewhere* is going to sleep *at home*, the first thing I remember *being there* is waking up *somewhere else*.

Actually, the first thing I noticed was the mattress being harder than when I fell asleep. I hadn't fallen out of bed in years, but I vaguely remembered dreams of having to breathe with effort, hectic movements and a falling feeling, so I didn't think much of it. It wasn't unimaginable that I actually *had* rolled out of my bed in my sleep. Then I noticed the brightness.  
No, I didn't hover in a white nothingness or something dramatic like that.  
It was just that the windows had no blinds lowered.

That's all.

Still, not only did I *distinctly* remember letting down the blinds before going to sleep, the light *felt* wrong - the wrong angle, wrong shadows from outside (no trees or something like that), maybe even the wrong color temperature.

Maybe.

So I felt rather confused when I tried to sort myself out and take a semi-awake look for what actually *was* wrong. Then I noticed some things and started to *really* get confused.

The bed I laid in front of was wrong in type and orientation. Wardrobes were missing but there was at least one door apparently leading to a closet, other doors were in the wrong places, the whole room was wrong. Surprisingly, the desk near to the bed almost matched mine. Almost.

Yeah, it wasn't my room.

Now, I'm *huge*, over six feet and 325+ pounds, so it was rather improbable that someone just _carried_ me somewhere else without me waking up.

Okay, not impossible, just improbable. Especially since I can't imagine anyone having even the slightest reason to, since I'm also a loser, a zero, mostly. No job, no prospects, no fitness, no wealth... Scratch that line of thought, it's painful and doesn't help, either.

Now, why does this room look so familiar, even from down here?  
The thought started to gnaw at me.

Then I noticed the room wasn't empty. Someone *did* lie in the bed.  
Which made me feel _quite_ uncomfortable, since I tend to sleep, erm, garbed rather lightly, so to say. And now I found myself in an unfamiliar room.  
Even if my surroundings _still_ had a weird familiarity to me.

And just as I started to pull the blanket I fortunately still had around me, even _if_ I found myself on the floor, the person in the bed moved and made noises indicative of waking up.

I froze.

Okay, not only the room wasn't mine, there also was a stranger there.  
The noises seemed male, okay, so at least I wasn't going to scare some woman or girl to death, I guess I thought another male would deal better with finding an ugly fat nude guy in his room - okay, forget that thought, thinking myself on the other side of that situation *I* would want to bleach my brain.

While I usually feel comfortable with myself I _don't_ have myself as a beauty deal.

Read, I think of myself as rather unattractive (at least unclothed) but can accept that.

Usually, no big deal.

Still, not the best situation to introduce myself to someone I had no idea of.

Okay, time is up, it seems.  
Time passed: actually less than a minute, I guess.  
Wrap myself in the blanket.  
Result: Something between cloak and toga, has to suffice.  
Get up, silently.  
Seems to work, no one's sitting up quickly just now, whether surprised, scared, agitated or shocked.  
Okay, he seems to be still at least half asleep.  
Hm, fuzzy strawberry blonde verging on a shock of red hair.  
Slim, according to the cover profile.  
A stuffed animal - a cartoonish kind of ... lion?

Something twitched within my head, but I couldn't make sense of it.  
Yet.

Look for cover. (I can't remember why, but that *was* my next thought.)  
Closest door, seems to be the closet, no matter, maybe more blankets at least.  
Silently.  
Slowly.  
Okay, not really a walk-in closet, but not small either.  
Ah, some more blankets.  
Get one.  
Some resistance, as if the blankets were weighted down by something.  
Huh?

But there's nothing, except something that looks like an empty balloon...?  
Probing touch... What *is* that?  
Soft, but still firm... but it's as if my hand were asleep, not really feeling it...  
Weird.  
Movement?  
Blanket slips, stop it, open and rewrap...

Ouch.  
My ears.  
A sudden piercing pain, as if *very quickly* changing altitude.  
*Feels* like standing in front of a powerful high-range loudspeaker, a 'tweeter', but I hear nothing.  
Not really.  
I just feel it, somehow.

Ouch the second.  
My head twists, a stinging pain in my neck, jaw and cheek.  
Still, no _real_ feeling of contact.  
Just whiplash, pressure and pain.

Oh, and darkness.  
Right.  
Bye-bye. Good night again.

- 0 -

Time elapsed: one minute thirty seconds or less. That *has* to be some kind of record.

- 0 -

Part 2 - Painful Awakening

- 0 -

Ouchies.

My face felt like someone had tried to shave me with rubbing alcohol and a flame.

Yes, I once was stupid (or curious) enough to try something like that, but I was careful (and kept it small-scale) enough to get away with not even second-degree burns.  
Still, at least I can say honestly I know how that feels. Painful.  
And it hurt definitely enough that I felt like I had made some really stupid mistake.

Ouchies, again.

Okay, at least I'm awake again, more or less.  
Hm, lying down.  
Eyes closed, left side of face still hurting.  
Still a ringing in the ears.  
So, I probably just blacked out for a moment.  
Ah, covered with the blanket, good, not being a complete eyesore.  
Just continue playing dead, um, unconscious.  
Hm, a voice.  
Two voices.  
And a rythmic ringing in my other ear.  
Weird.  
Or a not-ringing?  
How to describe... stop.  
Details.  
Not now.  
Skip.  
I have much more important things to take note of: WHO IS TALKING THERE AND WHAT?

Crap, I don't understand anything.  
Oh, at least I recognize the language.  
Japanese.

Uh oh.

Yes, my first thought *was* anime.  
Maybe random, but then I *do* have a quite literal 'random access memory' in my head. You wouldn't believe what leaps of association I'm capable of.  
But enough of that.

While I love anime, I'm quite aware of its cliches and the continual repetition of some of the same.  
Especially in Spin-offs. Doujinshi.  
Fanfiction.

Uh oh, like I just said.

There were several possibilities.  
The most mundane was someone had drugged me, transported me into this room and set up a few japanese talking guys to mess with me.  
Occams razor said to me: Highly nonsensical, no one I knew had any motivation  
to set up something like that, nor the means or funds.  
The next best mundane was I had snapped, flipped or in another way become insane and was hallucinating.  
Occam says: Why should I hallucinate in incomprehensible tongues?  
Shouldn't voices in my head try to *tell* me something?  
Oh, and they're outside my head anyways.  
Insanity: improbable.  
Theory fails. Next.  
Maybe I have been... Stop that, I have to find a focus.

Okay, back to basics.

Either it's real or not.  
If it's real whatever I do matter and whatever others do also.  
If it's not, nothing matters - Breep! Full stop!

Whether real or not, what I can perceive affects me as long as everything else follows some kind of continuity and causality.  
So, the best would probably be to take all around me as solid fact and accept it until I get some real good reasons not to.

That decided, I tried to listen on the japanese voices.  
I also tried to look through my eyelashes to get a view of the people, still playing possum.

Oo-kay.  
The guy who had been in bed, most probably.  
As I had estimated, slim, with orange-reddish frizzy hair.  
No cross-shaped scar. Good?  
Well, the room looked rather modern anyway.  
Face a bit longish for a real asian, and an expression like he had bitten into a green lemon.  
Or swallowed a spoonful of wasabi or whatever it's called.  
Young, not a lot over eighteen at most I'd say, even if the sour expression makes him look older.

Who's he talking to?  
I don't see anyone else, and where he's looking at doesn't seem to be someone, unless lying in bed...  
Uh, did I... interrupt... something?

If I really were in an anime (the guy looked quite real, three-dimensional and not-drawn, so much for that) I'd probably have produced a large sweatdrop when that thought swooped by.

Uh, the other voice, while somewhat whiny and screechy, still seems to be male, too.

Put another BIG sweatdrop on my tab, as that fact met the swooping thought from before.

Huh?  
Weird pause, but still somewhat of a tingling in my ears.

Ah, the guy talks again.  
Exasperated palm to the face, understandable.  
I expected him to have about as much of a clue about this situation as I had myself.

Still, he looked familiar in a weird way, as if I *should* recognize him - or rather, as if I should recognize *who he was supposed to be*, like in cosplay.

Then I understood a few separate words, identified one or two as names, and it just *clicked*, and it just felt absolutely *right* when I noticed the stuffed toon lion _move_ on the bed and _look_ at me.

- 0 -

Part 3 - Personal Awakening

- 0 -

Slightly moaning, I tried to open my eyes fully and finally - and carefully - probed my left face.

Well, whatever had hit me - and suddenly I had a darn good idea what, as well as a mental picture I couldn't decide what mood to be in about - had at least not loosened teeth.  
I probably just had a well-defined hand- or fist-print on my cheek.

Out of the corner of my still blinking eyes I noticed Kon - the stuffed lion, of course - smoothly drop besides the pillows, suddenly apparently lifeless, again.

Mentally, I chuckled a bit. I often had the impression most story and movie characters had the perception of a myopic goose with cotton in ears, and if Kon really expected to have gone 'toy' quickly enough, either I was much more aware than the average, or my impression was quite close to truth.

Then I looked up at Ichigo - who else? Besides, I thought I remembered Kon say his name ("Ichigo-kun") - and scraped together my scraps of Japanese, while feverishly thinking about what to actually *do* here in whatsitsname - Karakura 'township', right? - while he started confronting me verbally in rapid Japanese.

"Gomen nasai," I clumsily excused myself, slowly sitting up and rewrapping the blanket(s) around me, not intending to flash Rukia (probably) again.

"Gomen," I repeated.  
"Um, doitsu-jin des, Ichigo-san... Sprichst Du Deutsch? Or, how good is your English?"

I tried to worm myself through the japanese reserve - which Ichigo should not have been a prime example of, anyway - by not adressing him as 'Kurosaki-san'.

My being obviously more than double his age, with a somewhat scraggly, but dense short beard, might even help with that.

But maybe I didn't actually think that much about it at all, and just adressed him that way, because I felt so much that I actually knew him already.

Okay, one more of the risks almost nobody thinks about when writing about dropping in an anime series.

Ichigo flinched and blinked a bit in surprise, but answered, not too agitated.  
"Ara... I can speaku Enrishe, I thinke..." he stumbled a bit, then recovered.  
"I do know some Engr-lish, and... ain bisu-chen Doitsu au-chu."  
He shook himself.

Hmm, it seemed what I was told in university was true, German was a rather common second (or third?) foreign language taught in japanese schools.

"Okay, who you are and wha... how you getting here? Um, how did you get here, I mean?" he asked, with much better pronounciation than when surprised by my question.

"Actually, I have no idea," I dropped casually.

Okay, whatever this was, it was *not* an anime world, at least not with the classic overblown reactions.  
Ichigo winced, but in no way performed a classic - and seen in the series - facefall, facefault or faceplant, whichever description you favor.

"How I got here, I mean. But apparently I had no choice in where or when I got here, or my current state of... attire," I elaborated.

Ichigo seemed to stumble through the English and made me repeat myself, in German also, while apparently re-translating for comprehension.

But he wasn't kidding me.

He was supposed to have quite good notes in school, and his first sentences *were* quite fluid, _much_ better than most mutated engrish sentences heard in anime.  
He was most likely _translating_ for Rukia, who probably was standing just beside him in front of me and I presumed she had not much experience with English or German, at least if the times and ages stated in Bleach were true.

What was it, eight hundred years ago? Ah no, she wasn't that old, but had died - came to soul society - as a baby.  
Good enough a reason.

I was quite disappointed that I was unable to see - or hear, apparently - her as a shinigami, but on the other hand not much of my experience awakening here had been quite 'typical' or 'as expected'.  
When I felt the weird tingling in my ears again, the 'not-quite-sound' I had heard before, I guessed *that* was the only way I could 'perceive' the speech of a shinigami.  
If my senses hadn't been over-sensitive due to the still throbbing 'shinigami slap', I probably wouldn't have noticed anything.  
Or maybe it was her 'touch' itself that sensitized me to the non-sensations.  
Anyways, it seems that shinigami, while invisible to normal people in their soul-forms, may be tangible and everything, as shown in the series, but still in their special way mostly imperceptible.  
I *tried* to 'see' her, but couldn't see even the slightest shimmer.

Oh well, no matter.

"And I can only apologize again, I never would have wanted to embarrass either of you or myself that way. Oh, and my name is..." I tried to pronounce it in a way the native japanese speakers could 'encode'.

"Wei-fe-ru Yo-ha-chin?" He repeated slowly.

"Close enough. The family name means 'piper', 'whistler' or 'flutist', and the personal name 'founded by god' or something like that. But 'Yoh' will suffice,"  
I grinned, "Oh, and you *are* Kurosaki Ichigo-san, so des ka?"  
Just to make certain.  
He slowly nodded. "And you know that... how?"

Oops.

"Well, *there* it becomes difficult to explain or believe... But," I decided to be blunt, "I probably know more about you that I should; depending on your experiences up to now, even more than you yourselves..."

Ichigo's face darkened notably. I guess he also finally picked up on my using plural forms before when talking to 'him'.

"Oops again. Gomen, don't kill me, please." I suddenly was quite aware again of sitting in the room of a complete stranger, at least half a world away from any even remotely familiar surroundings, with no money, no papers and not even clothes, just a thin blanket wrapped around me as my sole material possession - _maybe_.  
And with at least one invisible professional evil-souls-killer in the room with me who possibly had not many compunctions to hurt me. Badly.

*And* I was about to fall into the trap of becoming an annoying know-it-all and trying to use - or abuse - my anime/manga knowledge to entrench myself in this world. And I wasn't even one hour here yet.

What to do now, and what not to do...?

- 0 -

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2 Explanations

It's weird.

It's been over ten years since I last wrote anything like this, but I've been having these persistent dream-thoughts...

This screams to be written down. I hope I can do it. I'll try at least.

What's the worst that can happen? Dissatisfied readers? Finger cramps?  
Mad assassins (grins)? Probably nothing I can't deal with or ignore.

Okay.

Everyone reading this should know the concept of the self-insertion fanfic.  
You take your favorite story, be it anime, manga, movie, series, book or other media.  
You generally don't own the rights to that property, and neither do I, come to think of it.  
You design a character more or less based on you, typically more less, less more (yes, that _was_ supposed to be a pun or something), often some kind of gaming construct with mismatched, unbalanced powers.  
You throw that persona in the mix, usually letting it overshadow the original characters with overwhelming skill, power, eloquence, smarts or just raw 'coolness'.

Well, that's not _quite_ what happened to me in ...

- 0 -

BLEECH

- 0 -

{Bleach is the intellectual property of Tite Kubo and whoever else is involved in making and marketing the manga and anime series. I haven't made any money off this, nor do I intend to, and probably never would even if I wanted.}

- 0 -

- Explanations -

Part 1 – Confused Explanations

- 0 -

The moment I realized how I must have looked – and sounded – all my rational thinking – which had up to now apparently been in turbo mode and completely calm – left me for more pleasant climates.

"Sorry, sorry, Gomen Nasai..." I sputtered, waving my hands hectically.  
"Ich mach ja alles verkehrt, it's all coming out wrong, do not want, no way no go, pardong moy, 'tschuldigung, au weia, auerauerha..."

The sudden panic in my voice – and expression, I guess – made Ichigo flinch away from me and shook the scowl from his face.  
Which was replaced by an embarrassed expression, him breaking eye contact and scratching his head.

"Um, look, you do not have to... I mean... Shimatta!"  
He mumbled something in Japanese, before he restarted in English.  
While I still must have sounded like a complete and utter idiot.

So much for the 'wise and mysterious visitor' ploy.

With effort I gathered my nerve, but my mouth betrayed me again before I had uttered more than three sentences:  
"Um, sorry again, but it just hit me. Until a moment ago, all this was more like a weird dream or something... I must have tried to sound clever, wise and mysterious or something like that. I didn't want to appear as a suspicious person or what, I just didn't want to aggravate you or Kuchi... ki-... san..."

Almost before I had noticed what I had let slip out, he started and spun back towards me, his mien darkening again.

Uh oh, again.  
Oh great.  
I wanted to sink through the floor, shrink to a dot or just drop dead on the spot.  
Except as desperate as I felt, with depression closing in fast,  
I probably would have transformed into a Hollow almost immediately.  
Which would probably have been a very short 'life', here and now.

Once again, I begun to ramble.  
"Oops, sorry, I didn't want to drop that bombshell on you right away, tut mir leid, aber ja, ich weiss... *gak* I know about Rukia-sama being here and... oh heck."

Then I managed a brilliant, genius-like save.  
Can you hear the dripping sarcasm?

I grabbed the stuffed lion from the bedtop at my side, where I sat indian-style, and practically pleaded right into its – his face:  
"C'mon Kon you usually stuff your foot right in your mouth at least as deep as I just did help me out here can you ? Just say somethin' stupid too or even stupider maybe they'll forget all about it then or forgive or somethin' pleasepleaseplease onegai?"

The stuffed toy I was practically strangling got HUGE eyes.  
Then I noticed a huge drop of... something... on his brow.  
Which shook me right out of my panic and into analytical mode for a moment.

HE gets a huge sweatdrop like in regular anime and Ichigo is not drawn, but looks completely real?  
And it's not real sweat or a liquid at all, more like a soap or glass bubble... But it definitely wasn't there before, so it _behaved_ like a classic anime sweatdrop...  
Still, I got the (uncanny) impression it fit. To a T.

Figures.

Hellooo? Everyone out there finished laughing at me?

Oh, that isn't 'up there' or 'out there', it's Ichigo...  
Oh.

Well, at least he wasn't glowering at me anymore.

"Oops again. Sorry, Kon. Um, gomen."  
I stopped abusing the poor fluffhead and set him down.

Somehow the plush toy managed to look shell-shocked and confused, which in some small way lightened my own mood.  
He stayed upright just for a moment, then sat down hard.  
His muzzle moved, but not a word came out.

Ichigo still practically howled with laughter.

- 0 -

Part 2 – Exposed Explanations

- 0 -

It took almost a full minute before Ichigo managed to calm down again. I wasn't completely certain, but I think Rukia was rolling on the floor, too, from some motions Ichigo performed – like appearing to bounce into something – and the weird non-sound I beieved to notice tingling in my ears.

I looked at a thunderstruck Kon with a lopsided smirk.  
"Arigato, Kon."  
In some weird way his presence, heck, his mere _existence_ had helped a lot.

I waited for my audience to catch their breath again – okay, I only could judge by Ichigo – before I wanted to try again.

Which might have been a mistake, since just then someone knocked at the door.

"Ichi-nii?" The girl's voice continued, in Japanese of course. Meaning I didn't understand anything, but she most probably was asking  
"Everything alright in there? What's so funny, big brother?"

Hmmm... Yuzu or Karin? If Yuzu, she probably would be satisfied with some half-assed explanation from Ichigo, but if it was Karin... it would certainly be time for another hearty 'Uh-oh' or 'Oops'.

Ichigo stumbled through some explanations trying to satisfy his sister's curiosity (and concern... ah, most probably Yuzu, then) and, as it seemed, managed to avert too acute suspicion.  
Darn, how I wished *now* I hadn't given up on formally studying Japanese these years ago...

When he finally had succeeded in deflecting his inquisitive little sister, he waited a few moments (was Rukia talking to him? I couldn't tell, drat!) before turning his attention back towards me.

Now *I* took the opportunity to avoid eye contact and scratch my neck in embarrassment trying to express my feelings in this situation.

"Oh well... that was not quite what I intended, you know?" I managed to mumble.

"And what, pray tell, was your intention then?"

I started, as I heard Ichigo use _that_ expression.  
Where might he have picked it up?

"Actually, as soon as I realized where I was I wanted to befriend you or something like that. There, that's it. Blunt and to the point. Good enough for starters?"

I propped up my head on one arm, elbow on the bed's edge and waving explanatory with the other hand.

"I know – please tell me if and where I'm misinformed – that your name is Kurosaki Ichigo, that you have two little sisters named Yuzu and Karin – and that was Yuzu right now, wasn't it? - ," he nodded. "That your dad has a few... distracting... habits,"  
"More like annoying," he mumbled. Yes, in English!  
"... And that you often host Kuchiki Rukia-san, noble Shinigami of Soul Society... Seiritei, right?"  
I appended a vague handwave and a half-hearted bow – the best I could manage sitting on the floor - in his – I hoped, their – direction.  
"Oh yeah, and the plushie there is Kon, an artificial soul currently inhabiting a rather fuzzy body."

Ichigo – at least the one in front of me – obviously had mastered the ancient vulcan art of the rising brow.  
Okay, DeForest Kelly might have been proud of him, too.

"Am I right so far or should I continue?"

Ichigo wavered a bit, then sighed. "Kyu-ju-kyu, un, ninety-nine percent – it's SeiREItei. And what are you actually or how do you know all that?"

Kon sputtered a bit before he tried to resume his role as a plush toy, then remembering I was on to the ruse.

"Weeell...," I drawled. "There it becomes weird and probably unbelievable."

- 0 -

Part 3 – Implausible Explanations

- 0 -

"Okay, let me start with a few questions. Do you read or watch Science Fiction? Do you know an author named Robert A. Heinlein, or maybe Lyon Sprack- Spraug- shimatta, I never get the pronounciation right – duCamp? Or maybe an american TV show called 'Sliders'?"

Presuming all these existed here at all...

"Actually, Heinlein I know, was literature in English class. This Du Campe I believe one of my classmates talked about. But Selideresu – no idea."

"Oh well. English literature – then it probably wasn't 'Number of the Beast', was it? Well, that _would_ have made things simpler..." I sighed.

"Okay. Simply put, where I came from, your life and adventures are a story, published in manga and anime."

Ichigo was visibly startled by my claim, but to my surprise didn't instantly reject the idea.

"I know it must sound ridiculous, but have you heard of the concept of parallel worlds?" I added.

"Actually... There were some Star Trekku episodes I once saw..."

Now *I* was the one facepalming. Okay, I actually *slapped* my own forehead, but you know what I mean.

"Of course. Star Trek, the international phenomenon. Why didn't *I* think of that? Never mind. Okay, at least you know of the concept.  
Now, the point is, all I remember is going to sleep, then waking up here in your room. Apparently, at least I brought my own blanket with me, but that's all."

Ichigo started translating again, and when he had finished, Kon, who had by now given up playing the toy, began to chuckle, then guffaw. Finding himself lined up in our curious stares, he blurted something out, which made Ichigo first start, then grin himself.

To my questioning face he said "I don't know where he got that from, but he said 'it could be worse, at least you know where your blanket is'."

On that, I had to groan myself. "Douglas freaking Adams. Where and when did *Kon* read 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'? Never mind, I _don't_ wanna know, not really."

"I neither. But he _has_ surprised us all on several occasions, to be honest. Still, as you say, it *is* hard to believe, and that says someone who hangs out with ghosts and death gods."

"Shinigami is okay, that is a Japanese word I *do* know."

"So des - of course. Still, can you do something to prove your story?"

"Beyond my mysterious and creepy arrival here? Well, that may be possible, but it depends on how much of the series is true here, or rather, how much of it

has happened already. Which brings a few other problems with it. And whether your world equals the manga or the anime, for that matter. They don't match completely, as you probably can imagine."

Once more, I was going too fast for my audience, but after a few repetitions it all seemed to have come through. At least the Kon-tact (okay, okay, I'm groaning myself) had lightened the atmosphere enough so no one seemed to be after my head anymore (if actually at all before).

"The problem is, while I _want_ to be helpful, I don't know how my meddling might mix up things, including endangering you. Just because I know you might have deadly dangers looming before you doesn't mean my warning you will help. I might give you false confidence, and where I remember you succeeding by sheer tenacity, my meddling might cause you to fail. Also, if I'm *really* unlucky, you may already have done everything I know of. Your series spanned more than forty _tankoubon_ and over 250 anime episodes when I 'left', you know?" He whistled appreciatingly.

"So tell me, please, do you have human friends with supernatural abilities, for starters? And do the following names mean anything to you:  
Bount, Vizored, Arrancar...?"

- 0 -

To be continued... I hope...

- 0 -


	3. Chapter 3 Evaluations

It's weird.

It's been over ten years since I last wrote anything like this, but I've been having these persistent dream-thoughts...

This screams to be written down. I hope I can do it. I'll try at least.

What's the worst that can happen? Dissatisfied readers? Finger cramps?  
Mad assassins (grins)? Probably nothing I can't deal with or ignore.

Okay.

Everyone reading this should know the concept of the self-insertion fanfic.  
You take your favorite story, be it anime, manga, movie, series, book or other media.  
You generally don't own the rights to that property, and neither do I, come to think of it.  
You design a character more or less based on you, typically more less, less more (yes, that _was_ supposed to be a pun or something), often some kind of gaming construct with mismatched, unbalanced powers.  
You throw that persona in the mix, usually letting it overshadow the original characters with overwhelming skill, power, eloquence, smarts or just raw 'coolness'.

Well, that's not _quite_ what happened to me in ...

- 0 -

BLEECH

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{Bleach is the intellectual property of Tite Kubo and whoever else is involved in making and marketing the manga and anime series. I haven't made any money off this, nor do I intend to, and probably never would even if I wanted.}

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- Evaluations -

Part 1 – Tentative Evaluations

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"Oh heilige Scheisse!"

Honoring ancient traditions, I was rhythmically pounding my head against the nearest available solid surface, in this case Ichigo's desk, from the side – I still had not risen, I felt too drafty in my improvised greek philosopher costume, so I kept sitting on the ground. The other reason was, I felt a bit weak-kneed at the moment, too.

"So you already had the big fight for Karakura town with Aizen and his Arrancar and all? _What the hell am I supposed to do then_?"

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Ichigo didn't recall anything about Bount, but there were a few other plushies – erm, artificial souls running around. The Vizored he _did_ know of – of course, otherwise the Arrancar arc would have been impossible to deal with – but they had all disappeared, maybe fallen, amidst the Battle for Karakura in the real world.

But the worst part was...

"What do you mean, Aizen just disappeared? You were fighting the biggest fight of all, your friends and foes falling like flies, and he just disappeared as if nothing had ever happened? Did you get hit with his Bankai or what?" I moaned, massaging my aching forehead.

"I do know not, okay? We were fighting, I got pulled from the fight, Aizen gone into the Soul Society Karakura, Oyajii turned up, went we to Dangai, he training made me with extra time to learn Saigo no - ultimate Getsuga Tensho and when I came to other Karakura, all was un-unnessessari because Aizen was no more there. "There were some damage from fighting, but no Aizen, no snakey-eyes – no Gin. Of all people, _Kanonji_ claimed he had conforonted them and seen the two blew them selves both up or such thing. Hate that laugh. Found friends, they said some of same stuff. No one did believe it, but they were gone. No trace.

"Karakura town came back home, Espada were all dead or gone, Vizardos were gone, all Gotei Taisho went home, no one had any cluu. I think Orihime and Unohana-san healed everyone she could, but we have not seen they since. Nor the others. That was just a few days ago, and but they were completely feel-good calm, so we, well, reraxed a bit." Ichigo ranted, then caught his composure again. Less hectic - and with less mistakes - he tried again.

"Look, I know it must sound weird, but it all went just 'poof'. One moment total destruction threatens, the next everything silent. The bad guys just disappeared and no one knew what happened. In Seireitei they probably are looking into what happened, but _I_ don't know - _and yes, it bugs the hell outta me!_" he yelled, throwing up his arms.

"Well, that sucks," I summarized.

"Hai. Shimatta."

"Verdammt."

"Ganbatte?"

"Urusei! / Shut up Kon!"

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Part 2 – Cautious Evaluations

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So, there I was. My knowledge of Bleach plots completely useless, because I had popped in _after _the big battle, which didn't even have a proper conclusion.

So much for helping them out and earning a place among them. Hell, all that I knew the big battle might have meant the end of the series, as improbable as it seemed. Bleach was much too successful for it to end now, there would have to be continuation, even if as a sequel, like with Naruto / Naruto Shippuuden.

"Now what... ?" I asked, basically myself.

Ichigo just shrugged.

Suddenly I noticed the girl stepping around the wardrobe corner at the door, as she said something. In Japanese of course, so I didn't understand.

Who-? Oh. Right.

The hairstyle was distinctive even in reality, with the characteristic forelock hanging pointedly almost to her mouth level.

Obviously, at some moment in the last ten or twenty minutes Ichigo and I had been talking, Rukia had used – entered, or inflated, or whatever - her gigai, her artificial body, and man what a relief it was to finally be able to see her. And hear, of course, even if I didn't understand a lot.

And even if she was 3-D real and didn't quite look exactly as expected, her dark greyish eyes _did_ have the same depth and energy as her drawn image.

Rukia and Ichigo conversed for a short while, Ichigo getting somewhat agitated at some points, while I had the choice of watching uncomprehendingly or to rack my brains futilely.

I decided on watching first. Fortunately it didn't take too long.

Rukia appeared to have a point Ichigo had to concede, then he turned to me again.

"She says, she agree something is wrong, but wants to know what you actually know. If you have seen all happen from outside, do you may know things we do not?"

Hope! "Of course! You know anime series, there always are multiple plotlines and viewpoints, flashbacks, character thoughts... hey, they had Gin do an 'Arrancar Encyclopedia' at the end of several episodes! I may not have an eidetic memory, but I'm certain some things could help."

Maybe I shouldn't have been so sure...

"Oh, and happy to finally meet her visibly," I tried to bow to her. I really should get up some time, shouldn't I?

Then it hit me. I had some big problems left hanging...

"Uh, Ichigo? I completely forgot, but there are a few problems here... beyond _this_, I mean," indicating my clothing, or rather, lack of, "but in the same line of thought..."

"Clothes, yes, what else you mean?"

"Um, formal ID, a place to stay, and most importantly - medicine. I have very bad health," I admitted sheepishly.

Ichigo faced the ceiling and slapped his forehead. "Kuso."

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Part 3 – Vital Evaluations

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Reluctantly I listed my most pressing health problems – among them diabetes – and watched Ichigo's frustration. I guessed the most promising solution, but I knew he didn't like it.

The other side of the solution was the basic problem: truth or lie?

Ultimately, I asked him.

"Do we ask... him?" pointing vaguely downwards, "or do you think Ura...shima – no Ura-hara! - Urahara-san has a solution? Hat and sandals guy?"

"... Damn, it still bugs me you know so much about us all."

"Gomen..." I apologized, but he blew it off.

"Kini shinaide, sho ga nai."

"Nani?" I didn't recognize that phrase, even if I probably had heard it in anime several times before.

"Ara... I said 'Don't worry, can't be helped'."

"Oh. So des," I just said. "So, what do we- what will you tell him?"

Ichigo murmured something incomprehensible, thinking feverishly.

I knew he hated having to rely on his father for anything, but Kurosaki Isshin _was_ a doctor, with his own small clinic belowstairs. Of course, as I already knew, he also was a former (how did that work out, anyway?) shinigami, and a powerful one at that. Which, in conjunction with my knowing secrets I shouldn't – even if not yet helpful ones – might open a completely new can of worms.

But trying to fib... there was no way Ichigo could claim me a former friend of his, not with me being older than his father looked. At least I expected him to, as cartoon drawing he didn't look older than late thirties to me. With me unable to see Rukia I obviously was no candidate for a shinigami connection, either. Ignorant of usable japanese there was no believable way I could pass as anything except a clueless tourist (which, at the core of things, I was, of course) and why should Ichigo – or Isshin either – feel obliged to care for me at all?

I got Ichigo to talk and found his thoughts went along similar lines. The thought of selling my situation as a mugger victim didn't hold water, either, since I would have to stay close to Ichigo and Rukia if picking my brains was supposed to be any help at all, not quickly fixed up and sent on my way to police or consulate – or embassy? Who would be in charge, anyway? – without proof of arrival the next can of worms would open.

Not to mention I severely doubted I had any legal existence here.

"Shimatta," Ichigo cursed. "I have no other idea but just to tell him."

"Me neither."

I would have been severely surprised if Rukia or Kon would have had an instant, brilliant solution.

I wasn't.

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Part 4 – Shared Evaluations

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Well, the whole dramatic desperation just went 'Poof'.

Kurosaki Isshin listened to Ichigo's (and Rukia's) retelling of my story, just shook his head, got his equipment ready, took blood samples and all, examined my general health, took notes and gave me some medication and other necessities.

"[You know most of your problems are based on simple deterioration from weight, bad nutritional balance and lack of exercise, don't you?]" he asked me.

Since I'm writing this down in English, I'll just translate on the run.

Yeah, I was a bit surprised about him speaking fluid German, but on the other hand he had worked with a Quincy – whatshisnameagain? Unryuu's father, or was that Ishida's? – and considering the amount of german-derived vocabulary in the Quincy's power arsenal – like 'Sprenger' or 'Seele(n)schneider' - it might have been not that big a coincidence.

"[Yeah]," I admitted. "[Never found a reason to do something about it. No drive, no hope, no will, no one to sufficiently care about... I just let myself go.]"

He raised an eyebrow. "[Sounds depressing. Nothing? No family, no friends?]"

"[Heh, you don't say? Not enough to matter. I love my parents and sister, but, well, we hav- had our problems, at the moment I don't miss them much; in school I was sickly and not allowed to participate much, so I never got into the habit of physical exercise; never found anyone or anything else to care about that much; most of my friends are out of touch and, besides, not that much better in the healthy living department]," I sighed. "[Yeah, in many ways I'm just a typical case study of a literal 'Otaku'. Not completely, I hope, but, well... I don't think I'm clinically depressed, but on the other hand, I just don't care much whether I live or die as long as I'm somewhat comfortable. Heck, as far as I know I got here because at home I'm dead already. On the third hand, as I like saying, that's why I know what I know. Hobby anime, manga and stuff.]"

As it is so often, it was easy to bare my soul – what there is of it - to a relative stranger. Oh, and I guess that includes whoever might get to read this.

"[Well, at least according to my examination you're still as alive as most of my patients. I'm not certain how far this knowledge of yours really goes and what to think of it-]" "[Actually, me neither]," I interjected.

"[- but if Ishigo and his friends wants to try, I won't object. I might even have an idea about your little language barrier problem... I know Ichigo wouldn't want me along as translator.]"

"[Heh. At least you still have a closer relationship with each other than I with my family. Also, Ichigo deserves his spot as main character, and your daughters are simply adorable]," I grinned.

"[While I'm just chopped liver, am I?]" he grumbled jokingly.

"[Actually, you were comic relief in the beginning, no offense, then a few parts of family history. Sorry, but you should know what it is with these shows, tragedy draws an audience. Only when the Arrancar began to appear your... former life was revealed, and that only to the viewers and readers. As far as I can tell and remember, Ichigo was clueless until almost to the end (so far).]"

He made a face. "[I don't like that. Being part of public entertainment... Okay, I play the fool for my family, but I had my reasons. That... feels just wrong.]"

"[I understand. But since we told you, I wanted to tell you at least something that relates. And don't worry, you were just a background character for most of the show. Ichigo was the one who had to be almost continually in view.]" I winked.

It felt very weird. Especially with the disparity in health, Isshin looked years younger than me, but still I felt as if I was talking to a favorite uncle, older and wiser.

"[Oh, there is one thing left I would like to check.]"

"[Okay; what?]"

Without warning, he wound up and thrust his hand full force into my back. I saw the move reflected in a glass pane, but far too late for me do do anything, not that I could have. I felt a ripping pain in my chest, piercing me from spine to breastbone.

"[Why...?]" I thought.

Then it got very, _very_ weird.

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To be continued... I hope...

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	4. Chapter 4 Distractions Fragment END

Notice:

Oh well. First my eye problems robbed me of any desire to write for almost three months – it's simply not fun to stare at the screen with burning eyes and in 250 percent normal size to try writing – then after finally getting glasses, I catch up with three months of Bleach – and see Episode 309, which contains a literally almost perfect copy of a visual idea I had for this fic.

Imagine my face turning white, freezing up and slowly shattering, shards crumbling down, leaving a blank space behind.

Almost no need to say it, but *that* shot my intent-to-continue-this in the kneecaps, kicked it in very sensitive places, taped its mouth shut, tied it up in chains, knocked it out and threw it down a canyon.

In other words, don't hold your breath for more chapters.

Still, for the few people who read this and maybe liked it, a scrap of the fourth chapter survives, and so I give you the – for now – final fragment of Bleech. Maybe it's still worth a smile, grin or giggle.

I don't know whether I simply replace this or set up a new fic should I ever continue, so here I go for the currently last time:

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It's weird.

I keep having these persistent dream-thoughts...

This still screams to be written down. I hope I can keep at it. I'll try at least.

What's the worst that can happen? Dissatisfied readers? Finger cramps? Mad assassins (grins)? Probably nothing I can't deal with or ignore.

Okay.

Everyone reading this should know the concept of the self-insertion fanfic.  
You take your favorite story, be it anime, manga, movie, series, book or other media.  
You generally don't own the rights to that property, and neither do I, come to think of it.  
You design a character more or less based on you, typically more less, less more (yes, that _was_ supposed to be a pun or something), often some kind of gaming construct with mismatched, unbalanced powers.  
You throw that persona in the mix, usually letting it overshadow the original characters with overwhelming skill, power, eloquence, smarts or just raw 'coolness'.

Well, that's not _quite_ what happened to me in ...

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BLEECH

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{Bleach is the intellectual property of Tite Kubo and whoever else is involved in making and marketing the manga and anime series. I haven't made any money off this, nor do I intend to, and probably never would even if I wanted.}

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- Distractions -

Part 1 – Incomprehensible Distractions

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I expected everything to go dark. It did, but not quite the way I was anticipating.

I found myself hurtling through a tunnel, the walls incongruously visibly made of crude oil or something else black, viscous and in constant slow but liquid motion. Either I was getting the worst quality death vision – wasn't that supposed to be a tunnel of light? – or... could it be...?

Then the customary light at the end of the tunnel approached and distracted me from that line of thought and recalling the earlier.

"[Great. Isshin killed me. Why did he do that? Did he think me a danger or why? I would have never expected something like that from this guy... And now what? Soul Society? Limbo? Are there in Bleach other afterlives for foreigners at all? Can't see myself with traditional japanese clothing...]," I mentally rambled, expecting a variant of hard impact, but hoping more for any kind of soft landing.

Instead, I found myself whirling through the streets like a dry leaf in fall. The wind, it seemed, raising me high up, I noted distinctly modern silhouettes.

OK, that wasn't Seireitei, as far as I could tell. But the skyline was fuzzy, slightly transparent.

Not in control of my flight, I lost height and swooped along close to ground level. I noticed vaguely humanoid shadows and indistinct silhouettes.

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Notice part2:

That's all, folks, sorry. None of the rest is/was in any form to be read coherently, but basically my insert-self gets a vision of the events in Karakura, where he sees shadows of Aizens and Gins fight, then sees Aizen being overshadowed and morphing into (in my original intent possessed or replaced) by a horror with multiple mouths... and at the time I hadn't seen episode 309 yet, nor read the manga to the equivalent point!

So effectively the original story caught up with my imagination and robbed me of my first high point, in a way.

Oh, and apparently Tite Kubo & co. are thinking in similar ways as I.

Ah, well, unless and until I get a new idea how to reset or continue this story, I have to label it as abandoned. Sorry again to everyone who read and enjoyed my try.

April 2011

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To be rewritten... I hope...

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End file.
